


Anchors

by 1_NoName_among_many



Series: Half a King, at Best [8]
Category: Red White & Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston
Genre: Alzheimer's Disease, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bipolar Disorder, Bruno Spencer (Philip's Equerry), Character Death, Did I Mention Angst?, Gen, Homicidal Ideation, Hospitalization, Implied/Referenced Suicide attempt, Little Prince Harry, Little Princess Cathy, Mental Breakdown, Mental Health Issues, Theresa the Therapist, angst angst angst, emotional breakdown, the ocs are:
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-14
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 04:26:49
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27464893
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/1_NoName_among_many/pseuds/1_NoName_among_many
Summary: Some of them drag you down, some of them keep you grounded.Philip's downward spiral reaches its logical conclusion.
Relationships: Martha Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor/Philip Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor, Philip Fox-Mountchristen-Windsor & Original Character
Series: Half a King, at Best [8]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1664290
Kudos: 12





	1. Gran

**Author's Note:**

> This is the final story of my Half a King, At Best storyline. I've gotten better at the editing thing, I think. 
> 
> And I promise, there is a happy ending. 
> 
> Also, I think I accidentally made a 5+1?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Violence against the elderly, casual use of deprecated racial terms, sympathy for the devil.

Princess Mary, Duchess of Edinburgh, was pacing in her room. It had been two months since she discovered she was pregnant, and already there were complications.  
Just like with Catherine.  
That insipid man from Harley Street she was forced to hire was of no help at all. Always going on about vitamins this and vitamins that, as if she didn't know how to take care of herself!  
And her darling, if spineless, husband was of no help in the matter. Poor thing was terrified of almost losing her again. But Catherine didn't kill her, and there was no way Mary Margaret was going to either. She was going to be queen! She was sure of it!  
If only her husband could -oh speak of the devil!  
"Oh, Pip! What brings you here?" She looked behind Philip to see that insipid doctor. "Oh, it's you. I've told you, I don't need your vitamins!"  
"Er, Mary," Philip stumbled a bit over the name. Did her eyes deceive her, or did he avert his eyes as well? "Please, they, they won't hurt the baby, and it's better safe than sorry. You're going to be queen, you know?"  
"Of course I know!" the princess scoffed. "And I don't need any stinking vitamins to do it!"  
"Well, then, what would you like instead?" Philip changed tacks. "Pickles and ice cream?"  
Mary gave an inelegant snort, hardly the laugh of a princess. "I'm not that silly! Peanut butter and chocolate cake."  
"You heard the, er, princess!" Philip commanded the doctor. "Get her her desired confection!"  
"Er, sir, are you sure that's wise?" the man from Harley Street respectfully protested. "I mean, given her-"  
"Considering how convinced she is that she doesn't need you," Philip cut in, even toned and so obviously annoyed, "I think it would be better if I stayed, while you went. Don't you?"  
"Of course, sir," The doctor conceded. "I'll get right on it." He bowed to both royals and, a little too respectfully, backed out of the room  
"And don't you go mixing those vitamins into the cake! I can taste them!" Mary shouted after him.  
The doctor had the tact not to respond.  
"Now that's out of the way," she continued. "What else brings you here?"  
"Well, er, Mary," (there was that pause again - what did it mean?) "er, how's the baby coming?"  
"Oh, Mary Margaret's coming along just fine, dear! She's a feisty one, just like Catherine was, but nothing I can't handle."  
"That's nice."  
There was a lull in the conversation.  
"Oh Pip!" Mary suddenly declared, "I am going to be such a wonderful queen!"  
"How so?"  
"Well, for starters, we're going to give all our troops the recognition they deserve."  
"Oh?"  
"Did you know the Indian troops still haven't been officially recognized for their service? In either World War?"  
"Yes, I did."  
"Well I'm going to fix that. And not just the Indian troops either. There's the Egyptian, and the black African, and the Lebanese - all the colored soldiers!"  
"I see."  
"And then there's all the victims of the War!"  
"Oh?"  
"Everyone's heard of the Jews, of course, but what about the Poles? or the G-----s?"  
"Of course."  
"Oh, sorry, Romani. Apparently they don't like being called G-----s."  
"Why would they?"  
"Exactly! I'm going to build a monument to them as well, maybe a hospital. Those are easier to get through Parliament."  
"Right. Erm," Philip paused, searching for the right words. He'd drawn his arms up in that way he does when he's stressed, a hand on each elbow.  
"Yes, Pip?"  
"What about the homosexuals?"  
"What _about_ the homosexuals?" Mary deadpanned. "They've done nothing wrong- AH!"  
Philip had punched the wall behind her, mere inches from her face. He howled in pain and grabbed his hand - he'd managed to hit a stud.  
"Philip!" Mary said. "What the f- heck was that about!"  
"You b-tch!" Philip cried. "You horrible, monstrous, no-good b-tch!" There were tears in his eyes. Whether they were of pain or anger was impossible to tell.  
"Philip! What is the matter with you! This isn't like you at all! Wait-" The adrenaline coursing through her system now was causing her world to swim. "You're not Philip. No, you _are_ Philip. The _other_ Philip. But that means, that means-" Mary put a hand to head in confusion. "Where am I? _When_ am I? What's going on? I'm confused!" Her voice was small and plaintive, and fear was clearly written all across her face.  
At that moment the man from Harley Street appeared with the cake. "Hello, Your Highnesses, here's- woah!" Prince Philip ran past him, sobbing and clutching his hand. "What's the matter?"  
The Duchess of Windsor, ever the royal even in the throes of elderly dementia, composed herself with lightning speed. "I think I'm ready for my 'vitamins' now."  
"Are you sure, ma'am? What of the cake?"  
"Give it to the servants. I'm not in the mood for it anymore."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As you can see, Mary III wasn't always a horrible person. She was never _great_ , mind you - she had a "white savior" complex and was tone-deaf when it came to racial terms, even when she was "good". Further, she was always a classist and a nationalist - traits which were only exacerbated by the treacheries of Edward VIII and Wallis Simpson.  
> It was these last two traits that eventually turned her "don't ask, don't tell" attitude seen here into what we see in the book.  
> And that hospital never did get built.


	2. Bruno

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Implied Suicidal Ideation, mental and emotional health breakdown.

"Oh, Mr. Srivastava! I haven't seen you in ages. I take it Prince Henry and Mr. Claremont-Diaz are in town?"  
"Hello, Mr. Spencer." Shaan said, a hint of an exasperated sigh edging into his voice. "Only Prince Henry could make it. Alex had to stay behind for his midterms, and will join His Highness when he is finished."  
"Such a shame," Bruno remarked. "Ah well, probably for the best. Mr. Claremont-Diaz despises the Duchess of Windsor. I wouldn't want to have to force him to pretend any different any more than he has to."  
"Nor would I," Shaan replied. "Or His Highness, for that matter."  
"Of course not. How's Ms. Bankston doing?"  
"Zahra is doing just fine thank you. She and Cash are staying with Alex, and will come with him after his exams. How are the Prince and Princess of Wales?"  
"My bosses are doing just fine, thank you." Bruno straightened up a bit, and folded his arms behind his back.  
Truth be told, Philip wasn't doing too well, and Bruno was sure that Alex told Henry told Shaan all about the little emergency session Philip had back in the Library of Congress. But Shaan had his charges, and Bruno had his own, and it wasn't their job to gossip. Besides-  
"Oh, speak of the devil, there's the Princess now." Bruno answered his phone. "Yes, Your Highness?"  
"Mr. Spencer, could you come to Prince Philip's rooms right this instant? It's very urgent!"  
"Of course, boss, I'll be there in two minutes."  
"Thank you!" Mazzy hung up.  
"Sorry, Mr. Srivastava, got to go. Duty calls."  
***  
When Bruno got to his boss's rooms, he was met with a sad scene. Philip lay unmoving in his bed. "Oh no!" The equerry ran to his charge and checked for vital signs. "Thank God, he's still alive! What happened?"  
"I don't know!" Mazzy cried. "That man from Harley Street, you know, for the Duchess of Windsor, he said Philip got into some altercation with her - that's what happened to his hand - but he wouldn't say what about, and now he's like this! Just, lying there, catatonic, and I don't know what to do!"  
Bruno thought about this. "I've seen this once before. After his suicide attempt."  
"Suici- oh, right, his self imposed Uriah gambit. Rushing off to Afghanistan and flying any plane he could get his hands on in a vain attempt to find his dearly departed dad."  
"Boss..."  
"Sorry." Mazzy squeezed the bridge of her nose. "What snapped him out of it?"  
"Er... the Powder Princess scandal."  
"What?" Mazzy almost shouted. "D'you mean I have to manufacture some sort of crisis to get him out of bed?"  
"I mean, there's only the one data point, boss, but I haven't got any other ideas."  
"Ugh!" Mazzy scrubbed her hands over her face. "You know what, I have to call Theresa." She whipped out her phone. "And notify the queen. You stay with Prince Philip." She dialed Theresa; the therapist picked up on the first ring. "Hi, Theresa, I have a problem-" Mazzy shut the door behind her.  
Bruno, left alone with his boss, tried to start up a conversation.  
"Well, boss, here we are again."  
No response.  
"Y'know, I think this qualifies as a crisis, don't you?"  
No response.  
"Perhaps we could look up some loony bins."  
No response.  
"Sorry, 'mental health facilities'."  
No response.  
"Jeez, I only called them loony bins to get a rise out of you."  
No response.  
"Dammit Pip! Answer me! I'm more than just your equerry, I'm your wingman! Your- your friend! And it breaks my heart seeing you like this! Just curled up in your shell, dead to the world!"  
No response.  
Bruno sighed. "I'm, I'm going to go look up those facilities now." Bruno turned away.  
But when he did so, he felt something grab his wrist, pinning him to Philip's side. It was Philip's hand, acting almost on its own.  
"Alright, alright, I'll stay." Bruno sat on his prince's bed and took out his phone. "Siri, look up mental health facilities."


	3. Mum

Some days, Catherine really hated her mother. Today was not, in fact, one of those days.  
News of her mother's rapid deterioration happened to coincide with the last day of her commonwealth tour, so there was no need for a change of plans. Just say her goodbyes, get on the plane and fly home. Simple!  
So why did she feel uneasy?  
"Alright ma'am, I'll take a look when I get there. We're already on our way back, what with the tour ending and the duchess deteriorating. And don't worry, I'm sure everything will be fine." Theresa hung up her phone, and let out a heavy, heavy sigh.  
"Everything alright?" the queen asked.  
"No," the therapist said, exhausted from her conversation and dreading the news she had to give. "Your son had a nervous breakdown."  
"What? How? Why? Did Alex get hurt? Did he _die_? Did _Pez_ die?"  
"What? Why would-? Oh." Theresa sighed again. "Let me rephrase. Your son _Philip_ had a nervous breakdown."  
"What! How? He's always been so, so..." Catherine tried to find the word  
"Good at hiding it?" Theresa finished.  
"Oh." _Way to go, Your Majesty, how did you never notice?_ "What happened?"  
"Some sort of altercation with your mother - no, he didn't cause the deterioration, though he certainly helped it along. Apparently, he's gone catatonic."  
"Oh this is terrible!" Catherine cried. She jumped up from her seat. "Pilot! Turn this plane around!"  
"Ma'am, we're already going home!" Theresa reminded her.  
"Oh, right. Pilot! Belay that!" The queen slumped back into her seat. "Oh, I'm such a selfish, stupid fool!"  
"Catherine, no. You had to take care of your own mental health. It's like," the therapist looked around for a metaphor, "like one of those emergency oxygen masks. You have to fix your own before you can worry about anyone else's. Including your children."  
"That, maybe," the queen conceded, "but I should have taken you up on your offer."  
"Offer?"  
"To get my own therapist! Then Philip wouldn't be in this mess!"  
"We don't know that. From the the first day I met him, Philip has always been resistant to treatment, not like you and not like Henry. I have a feeling that my presence would merely have delayed the inevitable."  
"Inevitable?"  
"A complete breakdown. It's my understanding that this has happened before."  
"What! When?"  
"After his plane got shot down in Afghanistan."  
" _What! When!_ "  
"Shortly before the 'Powder Princess' scandal."  
"Oh god!" the mother cried. "He fought through _that_ while walking wounded?"  
"Oh," Theresa said, as if just making that connection herself, "yes, I guess he did."  
"And I didn't lift a finger to help! Oh, I'm such a selfish, _stupid_ fool!"  
"Your Majesty, all due respect, but you are none of those things," Theresa said. "While on this tour, you've paid countless repartitions, organized the return of countless antiquities, and spearheaded the creation of countless shelters, hospitals and essential infrastructure. That is far from selfish. And as for not being stupid, you were able to convince the Tories back home that all this charity was for the good of the UK by using their own rhetoric against them. You are the best queen the nation has ever had. You are the best _king_ the nation has ever had.  
"Your behavior back then was the result of your untreated mental illness," the therapist continued, "and while that doesn't excuse your behavior, it does explain it, and your illness's mismanagement wasn't entirely your fault - no one can expect someone with bipolar as bad as yours to fight their own battles effectively, and you had an uncaring mother and the grief of losing your husband on top of it. You've made your amends as best you can, to your children and to your nation. Beating yourself up over it? _That_ would be the act of a selfish, stupid fool."  
Catherine sniffled and dabbed at her eyes. "Thank you, Theresa."  
"For what?"  
"For readjusting my oxygen mask."


	4. Mazzy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: Victim blaming, homicidal ideation, anti-papism

Mazzy was in her and Philip's antechamber at Buckingham, wearing a hole through the rug. Henry and Bea were waiting with her, sitting and fidgeting on one of the settees. The queen's plane had just touched down and she and Theresa were now on their way to the palace. An oppressive silence hung over the room, as if the anticipation and anxiety had become manifest. Mazzy didn't like it.  
Bea was the first to break it. "Oh, it's just like Philip to make it all about himself."  
That's when Mazzy snapped. "Oh, I'm sorry, does the Powder Princess want her spotlight back?"  
"Hey! I never wanted that to happen!"  
"Besides," Henry cut in, "it's not like Philip ever does anything worth noting."  
"Is that so?" Mazzy asked, acid dripping from every word. "Did you know that I vowed to love, honor and cherish my husband, but not to obey? Did you know that Mr. Spencer, a _commoner_ , was Philip's best man? Ahead of all the dukes and marquesses and foreign dignitaries? _Did you know_ that he refused to wear his heels during the ceremony? Not just didn't wear them, actively _argued with the queen_ not to wear them? And this was back when he thought she walked on water!"  
Henry and Bea were speechless.  
Mazzy continued: "No, of course not, no one does, because _you_ (she stabbed her finger at Henry) and your manic pixie dream boy DESTROYED MY WEDDING CAKE!"  
"i said i was sorry," Henry said in a small voice.  
Satisfied with her effect on Henry, she turned back on Bea. "And don't get me started on you, you ungrateful b-tch!"  
"Hey!"  
"Do you know why Philip was able to come save your sorry -rse when he did? His goddamn _plane_ went down! He almost f-cking _died_! He checked out of hospital _against medical advice_! He came home to me swathed in _bloody bandages_! His stiches came loose when he argued with the queen to save your stupid f-cking -rse from your stupid f-cking self! AND THIS WAS BACK WHEN HE THOUGHT SHE _WALKED ON GOD-F-CKING-DAMNED WATER!_ But did you ever thank him? Nooooo! You gave _Henry_ all the credit, the golden boy who can do no wrong, even when he tarnishes the crown by trying to marry a _Catholic_!  
"Erm, Your Highness?" Theresa and Catherine had just walked in to find Mazzy in hysterics. "Don't you think it might be a good idea to calm down?"  
"Calm down? CALM DOWN?" Mazzy turned on the poor therapist. "If I stop yelling, I'll start _strangling_! I will _squeeze_ the life out of them with my _bare hands_! And that is not! an idle! threat!" She punctuated her sentence with three menacing steps into Theresa's personal space, towering over the poor woman when she was done.  
"Theresa," Catherine commanded, "go take care of Philip. I'll handle this one." The therapist dutifully skittered into Philip's bedchamber.  
"Oh, you'll 'handle' me, will you?" the wild princess scoffed. "What are you going to do? Ignore me to death? Ooh, kicking around the furniture! What a big, strong queen you are! And now you're standing on it! As if that would-"  
"SHUT UP!" the queen shouted.  
And suddenly, Mazzy felt very, very small.  
Catherine gave an angry sigh. "I get what you're doing, really, I do. You're throwing a fit to get Philip to pull his head out of his -rse because, frankly, it's the only thing that works. He gets that from me. And ordinarily, I'd applaud your efforts, but I will _not_ , I repeat, _will NOT_ let you bully my other children to do it, if only because _Philip_ would not want that. If it happens again, I'll have you convicted of treason and reinstate the death penalty _just for you_. Is that clear?"  
Mazzy nodded meekly.  
"I'm sorry, what was that?"  
"yes, your majesty."  
"Now, is there anything you'd like to say to my face?" Catherine said. "Lord knows I deserve it."  
Mazzy opened her mouth to speak, but changed her mind. Then another thought sprang to her lips, but it died too. In the end, she just broke down crying.  
"I'm sorry!" she wailed. "I'm so-ho-ho-horry!"  
Henry moved to comfort her, but his mother forbade it.  
"Don't, let her bawl it out."  
The Princess of Wales blubbered inelegantly. "I just want my Pippy to be happy! Is that too much to ask? Why can't my Pippy be happy?"  
"Mazzy?"  
Everyone turned to look at Philip, standing in the doorway, wrapped in a blanket. His face was marred from the tears he shed over almost killing his grandmother, which big red streaks down his cheeks were complemented by two big black rings around his eyes. His hair was disheveled and his clothes were unkempt and overall he looked far from regal. Theresa and Bruno stood behind him, framing his entrance.  
"Mazzy," he said again, "Are you alright?" He knelt next to his wife and wrapped her into the blanket.  
Mazzy sniffled a little more, then answered, "Honestly, no, but I can take care of myself." She sat up. "Right now, you need to focus on you, you self-sacrificing git. If not for yourself, then for me, and your children and, yes, your mother and brother and sister. They need you, and your country needs you, and you can't do _anything_ if you're breaking down like this every other week! Please, Pippy, take care of yourself, We're only trying to help!"  
Philip chewed his lip. If he hadn't been cried out, Mazzy was sure he'd have burst into tears all over again. "I'm sorry," he said at last. "I really am. I've been running myself ragged trying to fix everything, and I've only made it worse." He yawned, a deep, but ultimately unsatisfying, yawn. "I'm tired, is what I am. I just want a nap."  
"Then we'll get you a nap!" Mazzy declared. "But first, you need to go with Theresa and Bruno so you can get cleaned up to go to hospital. Can you do that?"  
"I think so," Philip replied. He took Bruno's proffered hand and stood back up, then stumbled off into the bath chamber, leaving the blanket around his wife.  
Mazzy, for her part, stood up herself, leaving the blanket to lie on the floor; a servant would get it later. She pulled a smart clamshell compact from her pocket and began adjusting her make up.  
"Martha," Bea asked, a little miffed, "Was that whole thing for show?"  
"I will admit to a touch of exaggeration around the edges. But, for the record," the Princess of Wales snapped her compact shut, "I meant every. F-cking. Word." She stormed off into her own bedchamber and slammed the door shut. She dialed her phone. It picked up on the first ring.  
"Nanny Biggums, I need to talk to you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For reference: Mazzy is 5'6'', Theresa is 5'3'', Catherine (and Beatrice) is 5'1''.  
> In order to get the effect she wanted, Catherine kicked a settee in between herself and Mazzy and stood upon it.


	5. Dad

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: the "it was all a dream" plot.

Arthur was in his study, looking over the script for a new movie he was considering. It wasn't his usual fare, and it wasn't particularly lucrative, but it was heartfelt and genuinely interesting.  
"Dad?"  
The father turned to find seven-year-old Pip standing in his doorway, clutching his lovey. The boy prince had been crying, and was still sniffling.  
"What's the matter, Pip?" Arthur said, putting aside the script.  
"I had a nightmare!" Pip said, making a beeline for his father's lap.  
"Oh no! That's horrible!" The father hugged his son. "Do you want to talk about it?"  
Pip nodded, his lip quivering. "It _was_ horrible, Dad! Henry was gay and Gran hated it but Mum was too sad to deal with it so I stepped in and made a mess of the whole thing!"  
"Oh, Pip! You poor thing! Why didn't you ask for my help?"  
"Because you were _dead_ , Dad!" Pip started crying again. "You'd been dead for years! That's why Mum was so sad! And I'd screwed that up too!"  
"How do you mean?"  
"You told me to take care of her and I just kept her drugged up and docile so Gran could have her way with her!"  
"Oh dear!"  
"I didn't mean to! I just didn't know what else to do! And Henry too, I really hurt him. I'd sided with Gran, I don't know why, I just did! So instead of just letting Gran flog Henry to the brink of death, I took my turns at the whip myself! I was a right jerk!"  
"But I was dead and Mum was sad, right? Gran was the only one left you could look up to."  
"But Henry didn't and Beatrice didn't"  
"But you aren't Henry, and you aren't Beatrice. Besides, you're scared about it now, aren't you? So it won't happen again?"  
Pip sniffed a mucussy drop up his nose. "I, I guess not. But I'm still scared!"  
"About what?"  
"I missed you so much, Dad! I missed you so much, I went to a war and got on a plane and got myself really, really hurt! I almost died!"  
"Why didn't you?"  
Pip was quiet for a bit. "Because Beatrice needed me. She really missed you too and she got really hurt and I didn't want to lose her too."  
"Is that so?"  
"Yeah. She can be annoying some times but she's still my sister. My family. And my family deserves my loyalty, at whatever cost to me."  
"Well, maybe not _that_ much." Arthur said. "You have to take care of yourself too, you know."  
"I know. Why do you think I'm talking to you?"  
"Point. Now, are you ready to go back to bed? It's very late and you have to get up in the morning."  
Pip hugged his father tighter. "I'm still scared. I don't want to lose you, Dad."  
"Oh, Pip," the father said. "I promise you (he hugged his son), whatever happens (kissed him on the forehead), I'll be right here (and pointed at his heart), no matter what."

And then Philip woke up.  
He was in a strange room, on a strange bed, under a strange blanket.  
"You alright, Your Highness?" the strange man in the other bed said.  
"I think so," Philip whispered. "For the first time, in a long time, I think so."  
Pip laid back in his bed at the facility.  
For the first time since his father died, he fell peacefully asleep within seconds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dead parents are the best, don't you agree?


	6. Harry & Cathy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The royal twins are about three now, and delightfully precocious.  
> They call their parents Mama and Papa after Downton Abbey - Mazzy is indoctrinating them early.

Philip got out of the car into the courtyard at Anmer Hall. It had been almost three months since he was hospitalized and today was his first day as an out-patient. He took a deep breath of the freshest air he'd ever breathed. Maybe it was the weight of grief finally off his shoulders. Maybe it was being home again after so long. Maybe it was that Gran had died while he was away. Whatever the reason, he was happy to finally be free.  
"Papa!" Two adorable little gremlins ran out the door and cemented themselves to their father's legs.  
"Sorry, Pip, you know how children are." His darling Mazzy followed after their children, a winning smile wide across her face.  
"No worries, I missed them myself," He patted the royal twins on their royal heads. "And I certainly missed you." He kissed his wife for the first time in three months.  
"I'm so sorry we couldn't visit," the princess said after coming up for air.  
"I know how it is," Pip replied. "I wouldn't want to risk exposure, either. And we're here now, aren't we?"  
"That is true."  
"Excuse me, bosses," Bruno cut in. He and the nanny were waiting at the doorway, keeping a respectful distance. "I hate to interrupt the reunion, but the others are waiting inside."  
"Ah, yes," the prince said. "Mum and Bea and Henry. Did he and Alexander get married yet?"  
"Not yet, no," Mazzy answered. "They were waiting for you get out of hospital. They figured, since they ruined your wedding, that you should at least get the chance to ruin theirs." There was a mischievous gleam in her eye.  
"How noble of them." There was a matching gleam in Pippy's. "Well, no sense waiting. There's a funeral to plan, too." He tried to move, but his children were still wrapped around his legs. "Harry, Cathy, Papa needs to go inside. Please let go."  
"No!" little Harry said. He buried his face in his father's pant leg.  
"We don' wanna lose you again!" little Cathy added, and started climbing up her father.  
"Oh, my children!" the father sighed, his shining. "I love you both so much!" He crouched as best he could and scooped up the twins, one in each arm. "I promise you (he hugged his children), whatever happens (kissed them on the forehead in turn), I'll be right here (he pointed at Cathy's heart) and here (then at Harry's), no matter what."

No one woke up this time.  
The royal family finally went inside.

**Author's Note:**

> About the timeline: The entirety of "Here Comes the Groom" happens after the entirety of "Half a King, At Best", my erratic posting notwithstanding. This is why Mazzy says "trying to marry a Catholic" instead of "marrying a Catholic" and why Bruno continues to call Alex "Mr. Claremont-Diaz" rather than "Prince Alex".


End file.
